Charity Date
by ceb
Summary: History repeats itself- Carby and food, what more could you want!


Charity Date

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the food… I'm just trying to inject fuzziness into the bleak midwinter that is the showing of season ten.

Spoilers: Nope. It's set after "Rampage" (#722) which the whole universe must have seen by now.

For my Goods who practically wrote it anyway.

I stare up at the stage as Randi twirls in a flurry of purple velvet, smiling down at the audience. I look down at my jeans and button down shirt shamefully. I knew this was a bad idea. Although it's not as if I had much choice in the matter; cajoled is an understatement. The ER is desperately strapped for cash; okay, so that's nothing new, but Romano's latest money-making scheme is. The women of the ER are being put up for "auction", the highest bidder securing a date with them for an evening. There was no getting out of this, Dr. Weaver saw to that, however I think she was a little less than impressed when Romano pointed out that it was only right the head of the ER participate. Each date is different; Chen's going clubbing, Chuny has cinema tickets, and me? I'm making dinner. I can't cook. I knew this was a bad idea.

Randi's "sold" to Dave pretty quickly and looks mighty happy about it. Kerry steps up onto the stage. I'm next… I wonder what would happen if I were to suffer a migraine round about now? I laugh at myself. I'm being ridiculous, Luka's in the audience, he'll bid for me and it'll be another Friday night in front of the TV. He'll probably even let me order in pizza.

I gaze around the hall and notice a particular absence- Carter. I'm surprised at my disappointment. It's been three days since he clumsily declared his feelings for me by the river and I haven't seen him since. I don't know what to say to him, I handled it badly at the time, opting for my usual approach- denial. But he's my friend and I don't want things to be weird between us. He knew I was apprehensive about this charity auction and I'd secretly hoped he's show up for moral support. I guess I dented his pride more than I thought.

There's a bit of a battle going on over Dr. Weaver. Dr. Romano has even put in a bid or two. Who knew the boss would be so popular? It's going to be awfully embarrassing when I go out after one bid. I hope Luka's not too stingy.

Finally, the bidding is closed on Dr. Weaver by a reasonably high bid from Yosh and she steps down from the stage with a smile. Judgement day has arrived.

I step up nervously in front of the small crowd. Dr. Romano announces me and Luka gives me a reassuring smile. The bidding starts at $40 and Luka raises his hand. A few token bids are thrown in by various people but it's fairly obvious that I'll be spending the evening with my boyfriend.

The auctioneer raises his hammer to close but is stopped by a voice.

"A thousand dollars."

I know that voice. My head darts up, as does the rest of the assembly and locates to the high bidder. Carter stares back at me, his face expressionless. I glance across at Luka who looks rather peeved. The auctioneer assumes the game is up and raises his mallet only to be interrupted again.

"$1200." It's Luka.

"$1300," Carter quickly counters.

This could get interesting.

"$1400."

The crowd shift their gaze between the two men as each tops the previous bid.

"$1500."

"$1600."

"$1700."

"$1800."

I'm glad the attention is diverted away from me as I can feel myself blushing furiously.

"Ten grand."

What did he just say?!

Luka looks up at me defeated, he can't possible afford that. I'm too flummoxed to respond.

"Sold, to Dr. Carter!" the auctioneer proclaims.

And I'm very glad to get off the stage.

I walk across to Carter in a daze. He's writing out a cheque and handing it to the organizers.

"You do know I can't cook?" I inform him by way of a greeting.

"I'll help you if you like," he replies.

"You'll pay ten thousand bucks _and_ help me cook?" I ask astonished.

He merely shrugs his shoulders.

Luka walks towards us and I see Carter's expression change, he senses he's not Luka's favourite person at the moment. 

"That's a lot of money you donated there," Luka states obviously.

"It's for a good cause," Carter tells him, his eyes never leaving my face.

I move on the spot uncomfortably.

Luka nods in agreement, his lips tightly pressed together.

The mallet thuds once more, a mortified Dr. Corday just having been pledged to a gleeful Dr. Romano. However, his expression quickly changes to despair as he learns that the date is a helicopter ride for two. The poor guy always was afraid of flying. 

Luka excuses himself and leaves to get another drink.

"So, seven thirty, Friday, my place?" I ask my friend.

It's seven twenty on Friday and I'm about as calm as the passengers on the Titanic post-iceberg encounter. I stupidly insisted on doing the thing properly and cooking everything myself. Carter made some quip about a "gastrointestinal adventure" when I told him this, to which I took mock offence. However, I'm currently pondering the accuracy of that statement. _Campylobacter_ poisoning isn't _too_ terrible, is it?

The doorbell rings prompting an expletive from my lips. I smooth down my skirt and check my lipstick. As I walk over to the door I try not to contemplate why I spent longer over my appearance than I usually do. I'm wearing a _skirt_ for heaven's sake.

As I open the door I'm met by a sharply dressed Carter brandishing a bouquet of dried flowers and a bottle. He does a double take on seeing me.

"You're wearing a skirt," he remarks.

"It's good to see you too Carter," I reply, moving aside so he can enter the apartment.

He holds out the flowers towards me. "They're dead, just the way you like them."

I give him a wry smile and thank him.

He walks to the table as I search for a vase.

"Hmm, that actually smells edible," he comments, placing the bottle down.

"Quite a feat for the culinarily challenged," I tell him, walking back over to the table. I look down at the bottle.

"It's sparkling grape juice," he says gently.

"Too cheap for champagne?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

He nods his head in agreement; "I spent a lot of money on a beautiful woman."

The room must be warm as I feel my cheeks flush a little.

"Was it worth it?" I inquire.

"Ask me when I've tasted the food," he replies with a cheeky grin.

Rolling my eyes and attempting to fight back the smile threatening to dominate my lips, I walk into the kitchen area.

"Take a seat," I tell him as I open the fridge and pull out the melon cocktails I prepared earlier.

I walk over and place one in front of him, "your starter sir."

"Thank you," he says with a smile.

I join him at the table and we begin to eat. I'm surprised by how normal this feels. We've eaten together many times before but never in a formal setting such as this. No, that's not true, we had dinner at that benefit at the history museum. Some might call this our second date, our second _charity_ date. This thought makes me smirk.

"Penny for your thoughts," Carter jokes.

I meet his eyes across the table. "I was thinking about Kerry's amazing powers of persuasion," I tell him, not entirely untruthfully, "I never thought I'd be making dinner for you."

"I never thought I'd be eating it," he deadpans.

"Hey, I didn't force you to bid for me," I remind him.

He has no response for that and turns back to his melon.

Before I know it we're onto the main course. I've made this lemon chicken dish I found a recipe for. I was rather liberal with the quantities and ingredients required but he doesn't need to know that.

He takes a forkful gingerly and chews.

A surprised look washes over his face. "This is really good Abby."

I take a bit myself and I'm as astonished as he is. He's right, it _is_ good.

"Perhaps we should make the auction a regular event," he suggests.

I stare at him horrified.

"Or not," he adds.

We continue eating and chatting about inane things and despite the formality I realize that I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time. I'd been a bit worried about tonight as we hadn't really talked since that eventful day by the river. However, we seem to have overcome that and I'm relieved; I was worried he might make good his statement about not wanting to be my friend.

"I'm just saying you could look good as a blonde," he continues.

I shake my head, laughing. "You're crazy. I'm from Irish peasant stock, how many blonde Irish peasants do you know?!"

"You'd be unique then," he counters.

I heard he had a thing for blondes but this is ridiculous. "Not as unusual as a guy with a perm," I add quietly.

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?" he asks.

"No," I tell him with a devilish smile which prompts laughter from both of us. 

Carter regains his composure first and sniffs the air. 

"Umm, Abby?"

"Hmm?" I mutter through my amusement.

"What's that smell?" 

His statement is punctuated by the harsh screaming of the smoke detector.

Oh God.

I dart up out of my seat, hitting my knee in the process.

"Damnit!"

I dash into the kitchenette and turn off the oven quickly. On opening the door plumes of black smoke emerge making me cough.

Carter disables the smoke alarm and walks up to me biting back laughter. "There goes your dreams of being a TV chef."

In the centre of the oven is an incinerated pastry.

I look up at him guiltily, "coffee and pie?"

When his giggles finally subside we consider the fact that due to my ineptness we are minus a dessert.

"This is why the chinese delivery man knows me by name," I tell Carter. "It's also why the hospital should be paying _you_ to have dinner with me, not the other way around."

He grins again, "come on, we'll fix something up."

I nod in consent, we can't be any worse together than I am alone. So he is going to end up helping after all.

After searching through the cupboards he proudly announces that we are going to make brownies. I smile, I haven't done this since I was a kid. He hands me a bar of chocolate and some butter and tells me to melt them over a pan of water. As I'm doing this he weighs out some sugar, flour and cocoa and beats some eggs in a glass bowl.

"How's it going?" he asks after a few moments.

"Almost done," I declare, turning to look at him.

He grins at me.

"What?" I ask indignantly.

"You've got some…" he sputters.

"What?!" I repeat.

He chuckles and brushes my cheek with his thumb. "Chocolate," he says, holding the digit up as proof.

I'm a walking disaster. I smile self-conciously, all too aware of where his thumb was a second before. 

"Thanks," I reply breathily. Our eyes are still locked.

He pulls his attention back to the task at hand and stirs in the sugar and eggs to the chocolate mixture. I find a baking tray as he adds the flour, cocoa and some nuts. Between us we spoon the concoction into the tin and Carter places it in the oven.

Whilst the brownies are baking we crash on the couch in front of the TV. A cop movie is just starting. I recognize the director's name and so leave it on. When the female cop first appears on a New York train Carter sits up a little and I realize it's that actress he's always talking about.

The commercials come on and Carter suggests we check on the progress of our baking in order to prevent a repeat of earlier. I follow him into the kitchen where he promptly lifts me onto the counter saying that it might be better if I don't touch the oven.

I scowl at him good-naturedly.

He opens the door and pulls out a tray of brownies baked to perfection. Typical. He cuts them into squares and turns the pieces out of the tin. He carefully breaks off a small piece and moves closer to me. Due to the height of the counter my face is almost level with his and his eyes never leave mine as he delicately feeds me a piece of the chocolate.

His gaze is penetrating and also questioning.

The chocolate is sweet on the tip of my tongue.

"It's…" I gulp down the brownie, "hot," I answer thickly, "try some."

Without breaking eye contact he takes a piece from the tray and eats it.

"It's good," he says darkly.

I nod silently, my heart thumping in my chest at the proximity. Without realizing it we've both gravitated towards each other. My hands are resting lightly on his shoulders whilst his envelop my waist. Our mouths are millimetres apart, our chocolate scented breath intermingling in the minute gap. If either of us moved fractionally our lips would be touching.

"Carter," I breathe.

And we both know what that means. There's another person involved here.

He pulls back slightly but neither of us move our arms. I don't think I could if I tried.

The moment is broken all too quickly by the oven timer sounding. Carter startles and moves away from the counter and I hop down again to the floor. And I miss the intimacy already.

I come to my senses and turn off the oven before covering the brownies over. When I turn around Carter is reaching for his jacket.

"You're leaving?" I ask him, not hiding the disappointment in my voice.

He doesn't meet my eyes. "I had a good time tonight Abby, thanks."

"Stay," I tell him quickly. 

He looks up at me, uncertainty in his expression.

"Finish up the movie," I suggest. I'm not ready for him to leave yet.

He considers this and finally replaces the jacket on the chair and we both walk back to the couch.

We sit down and unconciously he envelops my shoulder with his arm and I lean into his chest. I can tell that neither of us are concentrating on the movie but I don't want to deal with tonight's turn of events just yet. I thought I knew what I wanted but now I'm not so sure. I chance a glance at his face, his eyes are fixed on the screen. Perhaps I do know what I want and that terrifies me. He senses me moving and smiles down at me. I smile in return and look back at the TV, content in his embrace. I'll figure it out tomorrow.

Today's fic was brought to you by the lyrics "from your mouth it's all that I wish, the mercy of your lips just one kiss" from Sarah McLachlan's "Train Wreck" which played on repeat during the writing process.

Thanks be to: Goods for providing the idea/challenge; Noods for the funniest part; Sarah McLachlan for producing sensational music, my cookbook for the brownie recipe (I'm as inept as Abby when it comes to cooking), ER for many stolen lines; Maura and Noah for creating such compelling characters to watch and the OrmanGod for his beautiful creation.


End file.
